Shatter Love [FP Sequel]

[0] coda

maya

I was not beautiful.

Not every day was this true. Come weekends, I was free from thoughts of beauty, and free from scrutiny. No one had eyes for me but myself. Then — beauty didn't matter. Afterwards — it did.

The outlook hadn't appeared from nowhere. It had always been gradually growing — I just hadn't seen it. Before I could stop it — it was a part of me, and other people's views had become my own. It had been justified, I had thought.

The fact was — habits didn't start without reason. There was always a push, something driving you past the edge of control. And once there, you couldn't do anything but let nature take its turn.

Fifteen years old was my last year in competitive ballet, and I attended a school that had produced some of the best. The summer beforehand, I expected to make some great progress and learn new things that I'd never been taught.

But I had been wrong in thinking that those lessons would've been learned inside the studio.

That was the year I started losing hope. That was the year I overheard people talking about me outside the classroom. That was the year I was embarrassed to show my body — the one that stood out against the norm.

That was when the fact that I was not beautiful began to be set in stone. And it wasn't just self-inflicted.

I met a boy there, if you could call meeting just watching from a distance. He was an elite dancer, well-loved, and beautiful, at least in my eyes. It escalated, when he suddenly began talking to me. It developed into something much more dangerous than admiration.

Love, I was in love with him. We were so different: I was the girl who faded into the background, while he was the boy whom everyone knew. He was good at dance, while I was not. But he made me feel like none of that mattered, and I was oblivious under his spell.

The last day called for a final dance, one that took place offstage rather than on. My mother and I had picked out a golden gown that — once put on — finally made me feel beautiful, finally proud in my own skin.

I didn't dream of parting ways with my friends, or teachers. My only goal, it was him. Something, anything, just once more — it was all I needed to leave the party while smiling at the stars.

I was so desperate. So desperate for love, for some validity that I was someone worthy of the attraction. I showed every bit of it, subtly, yet shamelessly. It was my last chance, after all.

I was invisible.

He left without a word, nor a glance.

And I was left — the girl in the golden dress on the dance floor — proven once again, that I was not beautiful. Not beautiful enough.

We tried to build up children to be confident and know that whatever anyone else said — they were beautiful. We acted as though we didn't understand the struggle of wanting someone to see us as more than another passerby. We all craved love, and we couldn't pretend that we didn't.

But years later, I began to understand that what I felt — it wasn't love. It was lust and wanting, flimsy feelings based off genuine attraction.

Love is more than that, and always had been. It took a certain type of person to develop love into something real.

The boy whom I'd fallen in love with wasn't one of those people. Neither did the people who'd come before.

I wasn't beautiful, because neither was the love I'd been searching for.

It didn't exist, because it wasn't love.

But that begged the question: then what was?

* * *
Hey guys,

I know that prologue must've seemed very redundant [given the info I gave you last chapter], and you're probably wondering why I even bothered to post this:

1. I wanted to give a final close to Maya's POV before we started with Conrad.

2. Maya's perspective of herself and love is very important to the story.

Still, you're probably going to be a little irritated but I promise that the fun stuff [Conrad's POV] is coming soon. I'm not sure if it will happen this weekend [exams soon, yay] but it will be soon afterwards :)

Will you guys miss Maya's POV?

xoxo,
twyla

P. S. Some recommendation: 'Needed Me' by Rihanna. I've been listening to it non-stop and it gave me a lot of the inspiration to write this chapter.